


In Another Life

by bluestbluetoeverblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: High School (?), M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestbluetoeverblue/pseuds/bluestbluetoeverblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean suffers from nostalgia and Cas gets a flat tire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another Life

They were telling stories about losing their virginity. It was Thursday--poker night--and they went around the table sipping beer and telling their tales. First Jo (it was a young frequenter of the Roadhouse) then Bela (some guy in a bar when she was seventeen--she remembers blonde hair) next was Benny (a loudmouthed crewcut he was in the navy with) then Ash (a pretty girl he dated for a few months before she got irritated at his hair and brain) and then Charlie (a dark haired Vulcan in a blue dress at her first con). Finally, they all looked to Dean with expectancy. He sat there thinking for a minute before starting his story, which was a complete and total lie. Everyone believed his made up redhead with a made up car that they had made up sex in one night after a made up football game.

He didn’t tell them about the blue eyed boy from his English class at a school in North Dakota where he was a student for two months when he was sixteen. He didn’t tell them about the way he doodled all over his Shakespearean plays and left cute drawings of pies and cars on Dean’s desk or how he always had two things with him: a book and his thick-rimmed glasses. Dean didn’t mention how the boy’s messy raven hair and gravely rasp of a voice made him get all warm in his stomach and that they shared headphones, lying on the motel room floor while Sam did his homework and John was at work, switching between Dean’s classic rock and the boy’s soft obscure music. And one thing he definitely did not mention was how he’d gotten so nervous when trying to ask the boy out that his face went red, his throat closed, and he stammered on stupidly before the boy smiled, grabbed his shoulder, and asked Dean to homecoming (Dean had only been able to nod before the boy laughed and continued getting his books out of his locker like that kind of thing happened everyday). He didn’t tell them about stealing money from his dad to rent a suit (or the beratement he got when John found out) and thinking the boy looked way too attractive for his own good in that stupid navy suit and stupid crooked blue tie that brought out his stupid eyes. He didn’t talk about the way they danced in the gym with the boy’s head on Dean’s shoulder and three chaperoning teachers glancing over angrily. Or how the boy’s parents were at a medical conference, so when their kiss on the porch turned into unbuttoning shirts while stumbling up the stairs, they had the house to themselves.

Dean never told his poker friends--or anyone for that matter--about leaving in the middle of the night because he suddenly got scared of everything that had just happened, or about desperately apologizing to the boy the next day and maybe possibly being just a little bit close to tears, or how the boy just stood emotionless until Dean was done rambling his apologies before grabbing him into a hug. He also never told them about having to leave town for his dad’s next job and having to say goodbye to the boy and maybe possibly completely breaking down and crying. Dean never talked about any part of those two months in Belfield; even Sam stopped bringing it up after a few years. He never told his brother or his best friends or anyone that he had loved that blue eyed boy and that he still loved him.

***

It all started with a flat tire. Castiel was on his way home from an AICPA conference in Idaho when he had to pull over on the side of a highway in the middle of no where. No where, apparently, had no cell phone reception. After half an hour of no cars, Castiel decided that either no one was going to be passing by any time soon or whoever did was likely to be an ax murderer ready to chop him up into tiny pieces to be buried wrapped in his trenchcoat. And he liked his trenchcoat, so he locked his doors and started walking along the pavement. The first thing he came to, of course, was a bar. At first he didn’t know if it was open because there didn’t appear to be any cars around or lights on, but Castiel saw a rusted pickup truck parked on the side of the building as he entered it.

The inside of the Roadhouse was empty and poorly lit but warm. Castiel shivered out the last bit of Nebraska cold that had soaked into him on his hour or so long trek and approached the bar. As he did so, a young blonde woman appeared behind it. She had amber eyes and a face whose default expression was one that said don’t-mess-with-me.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Castiel did his best at a friendly smile, which he had been told he was not very good at pulling off. “My car broke down a bit down the road, and I was wondering if you had the number for a towing service?”

“There’s Singer Auto, but their phone’s out. I could give you a ride though.”

“That’s very kind, but I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no problem, they’re just a few miles down the road, and I promise I’m not some psycho killer,” the woman said, laughing. Castiel faked a smile. Though he definitely outweighed and towered over the girl, he had a feeling he couldn’t match her in a fight. “Why don’t you sit for a minute, have a drink. You must be freezing from the walk.”

“Thank you.” Castiel sat on a tall stool, taking the water the woman set on the bartop in front of him. As he sipped it and glanced at his phone to see if he had any service--he didn’t--she stepped away to a set of stairs.

“SAM CAN YOU COME DOWN HERE?” she shouted up the stairs before smiling and returning to the bar to dry off some recently washed glasses. Castiel appreciated that the woman didn’t mind the silence or at least didn’t try to fill it with awkward, meaningless conversation. Eventually, a young man with brown hair that reached halfway down his neck came bounding down the stairs and into the area behind the bar, asking the woman--or Jo, as he called her--what was up as he came in. Jo gestured towards Castiel.

“His tire went flat down the road, so I’m gonna drive him to Bobby’s. Can Mr. Prestigious Law School handle watching the bar for a few minutes?” Sam rolled his eyes and nodded, grabbing a beer. “Hey, no drinking on the job,” Jo joked. Castiel felt uncomfortable sitting there watching the sibling-like strangers interact, then the man began staring at him with a furrowed brow, and Castiel’s discomfort multiplied tenfold. Sam stared at Castiel and Jo stared at him staring until finally something clicked in his mystery colored eyes.

“Castiel?” Sam asked. “Castiel, what was it, Nolan?”

“Novak. Castiel Novak. Have we met?” The man did look a bit familiar, now that Castiel thought about it, but he couldn’t place him.

“I’m Sam Winchester. You...knew my brother in high school.”

Sam Winchester. The kid who grew up in motel rooms and loved chemistry and reading. The kid who lived on cereal and macaroni and cheese and greasy fast food. The kid who apparently made it to law school.

“Wait,” Jo said, “you’re friends with Dean?”

Dean. Leather jacket and black combat boots and green eyes. Hair that he could still feel his hands running through. Loud music and a quiet house and the first time he ever had a boy in his bedroom. The first time he ever got kissed on the neck and fell asleep next to someone and the first time he felt heartache. Castiel sighed.

“We were. A long time ago.”

***

Dean trudged into the bar, shaking snowflakes that had begun falling out of his hair and stomping his boots on the carpet. “Remind me why I stayed in Nebraska instead of Texas?” he shouted into the bar, assuming Jo and Sam would be within hearing distance. They were, and Dean made his way to where Jo and Sam stood smiling like they knew a secret. Dean didn’t notice the looks on their faces, though, he was too concerned with complaining about the cold. And about having to drive his Baby in the snow. And about being hungry.

“Uh, Dean…” Sam said, and Dean finally looked up at his brother, who was nodding behind him. Sam elbowed Jo in the side excitedly as Dean turned to see a tall, lean man with tousled black hair and piercing blue eyes. Familiar, piercing blue eyes. So familiar that Dean didn’t have to think for a second before he knew who was standing in front of him.

Castiel was older, obviously, but that only meant he was taller, tanner, and had more character around his eyes, as far as Dean could tell. And he was pretty sure he was still wearing the same glasses he had in high school. High school. Dean couldn’t think about high school right now. Not with Castiel Novak standing in front of him in a suit with a crooked blue tie and with those eyes. Ugh, those eyes. Damn those eyes to hell.

“Always the complainer; some things never change,” Castiel said, and god, Dean swore his voice was fifteen times more crisp than before.

“He’s still as annoying as I’m sure he was in high school,” Jo chimed, but Dean wasn’t very concerned about her playful insults right now. He took a step forward, then stopped and stared at the man in front of him.

“Cas?” he asked, and Castiel nodded. “Um, hey- hi.”

Castiel smiled softly, the skin around his eyes creasing slightly. Dean pretended to ignore that because his throat was already getting tight and god dammit hadn’t he already been through this part? This wasn’t high school, and Dean wasn’t some kid who had never kissed a boy. He was a semi successful mechanic/bartender, and okay maybe he spent a little bit too much time at the bar when he wasn’t working but his life had turned out pretty well, all things considered. And he was pretty fantastic. Any person would have been lucky to have him, so he wasn’t going to let his stupid sixteen year old fears dictate his ability to speak like a civilized human being.

“Hi,” he said again. Then Castiel smiled again, and Sam cleared his throat.

“It’s been a few years...it almost feels like a different life,” Cas said. Dean nodded.

The words crawled out of Dean’s mouth against his will: “You look great.” As soon as they did, a blush rose across Cas’ face and he bit his lip, glancing down at the floor with the slightest smile.

Then Sam was grinning, but Dean couldn’t see because he was too busy kissing Cas. He grabbed the man’s face and felt Cas’ hands eventually find a spot on his back. Dean smiled against Cas’ lips as Jo spoke up.

“So I’m guessing you guys were more than just friends in high school?”


End file.
